


Catching Cold

by VenomousQueen



Series: Dimileth Collection [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, byleth making sure dimitri is HAPPY and WELL gives me a reason to keep living, its really cute ok i promise, mercedes claude and gilbert are briefly mentioned, only proofread halfway because im lazy and i must provide the people with what they want!!!, this is sappy and cute!!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 14:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomousQueen/pseuds/VenomousQueen
Summary: It's Winter in Fodlan, and King Dimitri just so happens to get sick. Byleth takes it as her responsibility to nurse him back to health.





	Catching Cold

Dimitri always told her that the snow-blanketed mountains of Faerghus were a sight to behold, but Byleth would have never imagined how frequent these flakes of condensed water would plummet from the sky without end. It had been days already, and the charm of watching the snow fall steadily to the ground had disappeared quickly. It was almost impossible to leave the palace without getting pelted, but thankfully the King and Archbishop were more than happy to cuddle up indoors. Everything was well until her husband started showing signs of illness.  
  
It began with a cough, then progressed into a sore throat and stuffy nose. The King of Fodlan? Ill? Preposterous! He had work to do! He couldn’t possibly stay in bed and let his beloved wife nurse him back to health! … Or could he? Even Gilbert advised his Majesty to rest, but Dimitri insisted that he had no time; he had to atone for his sins and run an entire country at the same time. Even the people of Fodlan begged him to get some sleep and drink some tea to soothe his aching throat. The children offered him tea leaves, which he hesitantly held his hands out for like some kind of beggar. That was the most interaction he had in at least thirty-six hours.  
  
Byleth was his primary supervisor as he lay in bed like a helpless infant. His eye patch was resting on the night stand, and his hair served as a makeshift curtain to his scar. His wife had him change into pajamas in order to keep warm while staying comfortable, much to his embarrassment. This whole ordeal was embarrassing! He would complain about sitting idle, but when he would burst out in coughing fits, Byleth would put her warm hand against his equally warm forehead and click her tongue at him in disappointment. As if by that sheer power, the King of Fodlan faltered and bowed his head in shame.  
  
“Forgive me, my beloved. I just cannot stand this! I need to do my work as King of-”  
  
Dimitri began, but had to cut himself off with a snuffle and a cough. The Archbishop prevented him from speaking another word and brushed his blond hair out of his face affectionately, as if she knew it would make him feel better. Were his cheeks red because he was blushing, or was it because of his illness? She couldn’t tell, but she leaned forward to plant a kiss over his scarred left eye. He gasped as his face turned redder than a tomato.  
  
“Byleth! You are going to catch my cold if you do that!”  
  
“I know.”  
  
A small smile graced her features, and if he weren’t so sick and tired, he would meet her lips with his own faster than you could say “cheese”. Cheese… thinking about it made his stomach growl, and he hid his face under his blankets bashfully.  
  
“I hope you did not hear that.”  
  
His already muffled voice was even more so with the blanket over him, and she couldn’t help but grin at the sight. He might be the King of Fodlan, but he was so easily embarrassed, it was endearing. Indeed, she heard his stomach growl, and it was around lunch time. He didn’t have a big appetite after getting sick, and one of the only things he would have were tea and Gautier Cheese Gratin that the servants couldn’t understand why he liked so much. Byleth noticed that Dimitri couldn’t tell what tea it was he was drinking because he could neither taste nor smell it with his current predicament, and she was sorry that he couldn’t tell when he was enjoying a cup of Chamomile tea, his favorite. Byleth was silent for a moment before shooting up with an idea. Dimitri, startled by this, peeked out from underneath his protective blanket barrier to ask what she was doing.  
  
“I’m going to make you lunch. Stay here.”  
  
And without any further warning, his wife left him to his own devices. He bit back a whine— what kind of King whined when their beloved left the room?—and turned over to his side. As he lay there, he could pick up subtle scents such as the tea by his bedside that had long gone cold, and mint. What was it that was smelling like mint? It opened his airways, and that was a plus, but where was it coming from, again? Ah. The mint balm that Mercedes had given him to use to help with his cough. Thinking about it made him want to hide in a hole, if just for a minute. Byleth had taken it upon herself to be his nurse, but that also meant rubbing the mint balm along his chest. He knew the startled expression he made when she began unbuttoning his shirt was humiliating, and the awkward thoughts in his head at that time only made him feel like a fool. Next time, he told her, she had to warn him before nonchalantly exposing his chest like that.  
  
He was almost too busy thinking about his embarrassment to notice the aroma of cheese in the air. As if immediate, Dimitri rolled onto his back and sat up to be greeted by the sight of his beloved carrying in a plate of Gautier Cheese Gratin. His entire face lit up, and when Byleth noticed this, she smiled. Her husband was just one big puppy at times, and she adored him. If he had a tail, she swore that whenever he smelled cheese, it would probably wag fast enough to send him flying.  
  
“You could smell it. That’s good.”  
  
“How could I not? The smell of cheese is intoxicating.”  
  
The two of them were smiling for different reasons— Byleth relieved to see him recovering and Dimitri anticipating a meal— as the Archbishop pulled a small trolley over to set the plate and utensils on. She immediately got to work cutting bite-sized pieces of meat for him to enjoy.  
  
“Thank you, my- Huh?”  
  
The King went to take his utensils to feast, but his wife had other plans. She brought a forkful to his mouth, her hand hovering beneath it to catch any dripping cheese, and waited for him to open his mouth. He stared at her quizzically before realizing what she was trying to do and opened his mouth with an “Ah~”. The poor man was thankful now more than ever that he could still feel the texture of the cheese and the meat, even if he could only pick up a hint of the scent. Byleth nodded at him in approval; slaying him with her smile. When he finished his first bite, he hummed.  
  
“It is good. Thank you again, Byleth.”  
  
Even if he couldn’t taste her cooking, he wanted to at least acknowledge its goodness. He could feel the time and energy that went in to preparing every dish she made him, and that was a taste of its own… or texture? It was something he could feel not only on his tongue, but in his heart. And possibly his stomach. Nothing was as satisfying as a good meal, let alone a good meal prepared by the love of his life. Byleth seemed satisfied and continued to feed him without any care of embarrassment. Even if anyone were to walk in and see her fork-feeding the King of Fodlan, who would believe them if they told someone? … The entire Blue Lions house and Claude, but no one else.  
  
When Dimitri had finished his lunch, she went to take the plate to the kitchen, but Dimitri stopped her. He beckoned her to bend down to his face, which she did; thinking he wanted her to check his temperature. Instead, he met her lips and let her return the gesture for a moment before pulling away and trying to pull off the “oh-yeah-I’m-totally-not-ill-and-the-saliva-strand-by-my-lips-is-not-snot-I-swear” look.  
  
“I wanted you to taste your magnificent cooking.”  
  
He cooed before loudly clearing his throat to break up the phlegm. Byleth was left speechless as her cheeks bloomed into a rosy hue before blurting out:  
  
“You’re going to get me sick!”  
  
As if realizing what he had just done, he apologized,  
  
“If it is any consultation, catching my illness may be inevitable. We share the same bed, after all.”  
  
Good point. Byleth nodded and praised him for pointing that out before going to put the unfinished tea and cleared lunch plate back to the kitchen. Dimitri slithered back under the covers and closed his eyes. After a good meal, he always found himself tuckered out, but could never get to sleep. It’s not like he would let himself sleep anyway, but now with Byleth here, she would absolutely make certain that he got his rest. Especially with an ailment such as this, drowsiness seemed to be overpowering, and he found himself succumbing to it easier than he would have liked.  
  
He was sound asleep when she returned, and she came into their shared room in order to kiss him goodnight and possibly bless him with sweet dreams because boy did he need them. As expected, Byleth did eventually catch Dimitri’s cold, but he was more than happy to be her nurse in her time of sickness. He had vowed to love her in sickness and in health when he married her, you know!


End file.
